Elder Scrolls: The Assassin's Dark Tale
by Archivist119
Summary: A Argonian prisoner, twisted from his dark past, has escaped from the Imperial City and into the world. However his darkness have been sensed by the Dark Brotherhood and he will prove more than just a simple assassin.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Escape**

* * *

Sitting in a damp, dark cell of the infamous Imperial Prison for a unknown time period, with a shred of natural light beaming into his cell and torches from the other end of the cell-lined hall, the Prisoner have long lost track of time here.

Then again he has lost much in his life, but he will gain freedom _very_ soon. That was certain.

Finally, a visitor comes, easily indicated by the slamming of the door leading to the outside world and the sounds of clanging metal boots. A hiss slipped out of the Prisoner's fanged maw. It must be one of the guards and from the smell in the air; it was the arrogant Imperial, Trakus Dovaniis.

Besides himself, there was another prisoner, a Dumner fool by the name of Valen Dreth. Just the name made the Prisoner's blood boil like a volcanic-heated cauldron. He hated Dunmer, he despised possibly everything about them. He hated them all.

Valen's smell haunts him every day and night, madness had already taken his mind long ago. He was but a beast now.

A beast with intelligence.

Then the sounds of metal drew close until the large Imperial guard appeared infront of his cell. "And finally the Argonian." The Imperial said with a scorn on his chubby face. For before him, in this dark cell, was a large crocodilian that have been deprived of water for a long time and his pale dry scales showed it, even though it was hard to see anything but the Argonian's glimmering yellow eyes.

"I don't see the point of keeping you in here," The Imperial said, "You are nothing but a filthy beast. A beast that should have been put down the moment the others caught your tail in the sewers."

The Argonian was quiet, not a noise came out of him. Standing up, he slowly approached into the torches' light to show his malnourished yellow scales, thick iron bonds around his wrists. On clawed feet, the Argonian stood a foot taller and was bulkier than the heavily-built soldier.

Hunching over, his claws gripped to the cell, and his cold eyes met with the Imperial. There was a intense silence between the two before a harsh and dry voice snarled out of the Argonian's long maw,

"You be first to die."

Never had the Argonian spoke until now and it disturbed the guard, but he was determined to prove his superior-as all Imperials do-and drawn his sword threateningly.

"Is that so, Killer Croc?" Trakus asked with a worried face and pitiful excuse of a smile. "Maybe if I cut some limbs off, maybe your thoughts would be different."

"No." The Argonian croaked."It be already too late."

At the last word, Trakus gasped and groaned. He stared in despair at the Argonian as blood started to seep through his mouth. Looking down, he saw the Argonian's thick tail stabbed into his stomach. His cuirass was ripped through like paper.

The Prisoner's eyes were last thing he seen before death took him. Managing to pass a thick arm through the bars, the Argonian kept the heavy body up as his claws grabbed the dangling keys. Slipping them through and tested each one till the final unlocked his cell.

Satisfied, he tore his tail back from the Imperial's body before stepping out. Flipping his tongue, the crocodilian walked down the hall with weary footsteps. It have been too long.

Just then he heard another voice. Valen's voice.

"Hey, hey, friend. Do you mind..." The Dark elf tried to say before the crocodile suddenly went wild, and thrusted his head at the cell bars. His muzzle started to push through bars some but he could pass through. Roaring and snarling like a wild beast, the Argonian scared the Dumner into the back of his black cell.

Reforming back to a calm mood, the Argonian continued on, and the Dumner remained quiet, watching till his long bloody tail slipped past his cell.

Walking up the stairs, with no care for any guards that awaited his approach, the Argonian pushed open the heavy wooden door to see another guard turning to greet, no doubt, Trakus, but looked absolutely horrified to see the Argonian murderer out of his cell.

A armored hand about to fall on his sheathed sword and mouth ready to scream, the Argonian snarled, and backhanded his captor's face, throwing him clear across the room. Slamming his helmed head onto the stone wall, the Imperial guard was quiet and still as the Prisoner continued his calm escape.

Pushing open the door, he was greeted with the fresh smells of outdoors and beautiful bright sunlight. Just this alone was a bliss of haven to the Argonian, especially the smell of the surrounding water.

Purring at the feeling of heat hitting his scales, the Argonian walked in ecstasy until he heard metal clanging.

Aware of the several guards moving towards him, the Argonian snarled and roared before running with beguiling speed. Coming to an end of the courtyard as the guards started to shoot arrows, he found what he was looking for...a manhole.

Ripping the heavy lid out of the ground, he barely ducked under a flurry of arrows, throwing it at the coming guards hard, hearing the sound of intense pain and bone crunching before jumping to the sewers.

This time the guards did not follow, the crazed Argonian has escaped them, and he will not be caught again in their own city's sewer.

Swift-Knife has escaped into the civilized world once more...

* * *

Author's note: This is not the Hero of Cyrodiil but he will prove vital for its survival. Please give out your thoughts so I can make it better.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter I: The First Meeting**

* * *

Days' hiding in his old lair-the immense sewer of the Imperial City-the Prisoner was once more in almost complete darkness and have grown tired of the smell of sewer. He wanted to be free and out into the world.

Eating rats and the occasional goblin, Swift-Knife was satisfied, but he felt like someone was there with him, watching his ever step and deed, the same feeling he have felt when he first killed that old Dumner witch… it was making him uncomfortable and vicious, until in the breaking of twilight into night, Swift-Knife stood in the shower of the morning light when he felt a dark chill running down his spine.

Snarling, he turned around to see nothing but he felt it. Someone was there. Hunching over for a ready stance, Swift-Knife was about to pounce when a shadowy figure stepped into the edge of the light.

A black figure, its face hooded under a cowl, and hands under long sleeve, Swift-Knife felt a cold, but strangely comfortable, feeling about himself at the sight.

Then a deep and confident voice echoed through the hood, "You sleep rather soundly for a murderer. That's good. You'll need a clear conscious for what I'm about to propose."

"Who-who you!?" The cautious Argonian demanded in edging fury and beneath the hood, the cloaked figure smirked in amusement, clearly unafraid of the hulking beast before him.

"I am Lucien Lachance, a speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offer. An opportunity to join our rather…unique family."

The Argonian's eyes gleamed at this and slowly relaxed but never put his guard down. The Speaker…this Lucien Lachance seemed satisfied, "Then I have your rapt attention. Splendid. Now listen closely. On the Green Road to the North of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. He is an old man, his body frail, and he sleeps his days away. You could kill him before he wake, if you so choose. In whatever way you choose, kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

Family, that word again. Swift-Knife never had this, he was but a slave. The closest thing to a teaching father was a ruthless wizard-lord and for a mother, his uncaring whips and punishments. He growled at the memories but the way Lucien says the word, it sound...promising.

Then Lucien produced a golden-decorated knife with a black, curved blade and an interesting handgrip. The very appearance brought a subtle hum into the back of his mind and a unnatural connection came between him and it.

"Please accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve you well, as does your silence, "the Speaker said with a unsettling smile.

Approaching into the middle of the light with the man, Swift-Knife took the blade, and he knew then on, the two was one.

Looking at the hooded man, Swift-Knife had one question, for he have lost much of his mind since his escape from his homeland, and never really connected with society or its speech.

"What is Dark Brotherhood?"

With a thin line on his face, Lucien seemed surprised, "Have you not heard of the Dark Brotherhood? Of the remorseless guild of paid assassins and homicidal cutthroats? Join us, and you'll find the Dark Brotherhood to be all that, and so much more. We are. More than anything, a union of like-minded individuals. We kill for profit, for enjoyment, and for the glory of the Dread Father Sithis. We are a family, with bonds forged in blood...and death."

Each word intrigued Swift-Knife more and more, and he felt like a invisible force have guided him to this moment. This...Dark Brotherhood seemed to be more than just a guild, it was home for something like him and he will not turn down such a opportunity.

Seeing the agreement in the beast's eyes, the Speaker placed a cold, gloved hand on a large shoulder that placed him in a sort of security that have never been felt before.

"Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we'll meet again soon." Lucien said and he started to step away back into the darkness, blinding with the shadows themselves.

When the chill was gone, Swift-Knife looked down at his newly given dagger, he grasped the hilt tight.

"Rufio will be first." Swift-Knife promised to his new weapon.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter II: Virgin Taste**

* * *

After sneaking from the sewer at dusk, Swift-Knife swam through the gutters, out of the city, and soon enough stumbled into a camp of bandits nearby. They tried to attack the Argonian, thinking he would a easy kill, having nothing on but a dirty loincloth.

The fools didn't last long to the beast's inhuman strength and speed and it was Swift-Knife who left with a nice black bear-furred blanket as a robe-since none of their useless clothes could fit his mighty frame-a nice belt to hold his precious knife, and a satchel of food to keep him fed on his journey.

On his way to leave the camp for good, Swift-Knife found a old map on a barrel. It was very hard to read at first but using the Imperial City in reality and on the map as a very useful reference, his claw came to the southern city called Bravil.

Looking at the arrow at corner that said N, he followed his claw up to the south of the city. "South. Bravil." He murmured before making his travel, starting to get back to talking.

It was a two-day journey, rarely stopping to rest a hour nap or eat. He paid no mind to travelers and he had to occasionally kill some wildlife and thugs, even wrestled a large black bear.

Finally at the end of his travel, he found a old building, and at its front was a human; fair-skinned and apparently a hunter with his simple clothes, but Swift-Knife could smell it on him that he was a Imperial soldier. Grimacing at the smell, he tried to get past him but the man turned and greeted with a smile, "Good evening, Argonian friend. Welcome to Inn of Ill Omen."

Hissing under his breath, Swift-Knife turned his head to look at the Imperial. "Thank...you." He said with some difficulty. Opening the door, he walked in to find himself in a small room, with very few people but a large, tired Nord, a drunken Orc, and a Redguard woman in the corner.

All eyes were on him and, personally, Swift-Knife was on the edge of killing everything in the room, but for the first time-besides with Lucien-restrained himself from bloodlust. The Nord smiled with a bewildered look as he approached, "Well I be a spotted snow bear, a customer!"

Swift-Knife approached him-to his personal amusement, noticed the Nord swallow hard, if just noticing his large body and his left arm shifted behind his bar-and pulled his hood back while standing up since his large and heavy frame wouldn't be held up by one of the chairs, "I need room to sleep in to...night. Rest, yes?"

The Nord looked abit confused by the Argonian's poor grammar but nodded, "We got plenty of room if you want one. Ain't nobody here 'cept old Rufio."

At the mention of Rufio's name, Swift-Knife's pupils shifted into slender slits,"Rufio?""He's a old codger. Been living here for a couple of weeks now. If you ask me, he's hiding from something. But what I care? He pays his tab. He's downstairs, in what I like to call the Private Quarters." The Nord said.

"He must come out sometime. I glad to see if he is still...alive?" Swift-Knife asked. The Nord looked at the Argonian as if questioning his motive but shrugged with indifference and pointed toward the corner of the room, "Use that hatch in the floor over there. Don't except a warm reception."

Nodding, the Argonian walked to the hatch, and opened it to see the basement of the inn. Jumping inside, while pulling the hatch down on the way, he saw a narrow hall with at least four doors. Walking, he sniffed deeply before he caught a distinctive smell. Following it to the end of the hall, he tried to open the door but found it locked.

Growling, he smashed the door open, and instantly an old man jerked himself upward from his door with a very irritated look on his aged face.

"Who are you? What are you doing smashing my door in, you big stupid lizard!" The old man screamed and Swift-Knife simply stepped inside the room. In the dim-lit room, Rufio could see the Argonian to be a giant upright crocodile, his long arms were large and thick with scaled muscle, digitigraded legs ending with a pair of sharp claws, and a long tail ended with a just as deadly looking spike.

Underneath his hood, Swift-Knife's eyes were like a pair of burning suns and his trilling snarls didn't help either.

"Death calls you." He hissed and watching the dawning horror on Rufio's face with great pleasure, Swift-Knife lunged with the Blade of Woe in his claws.

Rufio only had a moment to shriek before the flying beast literally crashed into him and his bed.

There was no struggle, no fight, and no challenge for Swift-Knife. Then again even a man in his prime would have met his end to the vicious crocodile.

A few minutes later, Swift-Knife pulled himself to the main room to find the Nord looking at him expectantly. "Rufio is quite the man." He clicked and the Nord rolled his eyes in agreement. "Just remembered, must get to Bravil by dawn." Swift-Knife said, dropping a small pouch of gold on the bar. "What about your room, good sir?"The Nord asked."No need. but you keep gold. Good friendship, yes."Swift-Knife said, stepping out.

"Farewell then and you are welcome anytime, friend!" The Nord bellowed and the Swift-Knife shut the door.

Standing out there still was the Imperial, pulling out a handful of arrows from a target post. "Leaving already?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. Swift-Knife nodded. When it seemed he would leave safety, the Imperial called out,"Hey, sir. Are you bleeding?"

Stopping, Swift-Knife turned to the man, and walked to him till they were a good distance between one another. Pulling his cloak back, the Argonian held out a large left arm high, and behold!

The screaming head of Rufio was in his claws, his bloody spine dangling underneath, dripping the thick red blood.

The Imperial looked with shock and was too slow to act with his bow or sidesword when Swift-Knife's tail sprang forward and stabbed through his stomach.

Pulling the groaning man forward to his face, Swift-Knife growled with horrid breath, "Imperial scum." With that, he spun, and tossed the soldier into the nearby wall. His scream dulling away till the loud slap of water was heard.

Satisfied with the death, Swift-Knife disappeared into the forest to rest. There it will be secure and perfect for his meeting.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter III: The Covenant**

* * *

As he slept lightly for hours on end, Swift-Knife was not confident sleeping in the open, no telling what lurks to strike one. His robes wrapped around him tightly against the chilling night, the reptilian felt another kind of chill. One that crept to his very soul...

The Speaker, he came again as promised.

Opening his eyes, he found the magnificent black robes of Lucien standing before him, and despite the shadow of the hood before him, Swift-Knife felt the pleased look on the assassin's face as he spoke, "So, the deed is gone. How do I know this? You will find that I that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things. For you are now part of the _family_."

With a deep rumble that could only be the Argonian's form of a purr of great pleasure, Swift-Knife lifted his bulk from against the tree that he rested on to kneel before the Speaker and presented Rufio's head to him before pledging, "My life for Dark Brotherhood."

Underneath the hood, the mysterious Speaker smiled greatly, "Indeed. For the slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution," He paused to look at the horrified face before continuing with meaning, "Your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink."

Looking to Lucien, Swift-Knife listened, "As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the Black Door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly, _"Sanguine, my brother."_ You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva. We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following...your progress."

Then he place a cold but comforting hand on the Argonian's broad shoulder, "Welcome to the family." Those words echoed in Swift-Knife's mind, memorizing every word to great detail. He felt disappointment of possibly not seeing Lucien again but great warmth and alien love came to Swift-Knife's heart when the Speaker welcomed him to the Dark Brotherhood.

"Thank you, Speaker. I will not fail you or the Brotherhood." Swift-Knife said. Lucien chuckled darkly, "I know you won't. You and every Dark Brother and Sister is a child of Sithis. He whom we call Sithis has many other names. Chaos. Doom. Discord. Sithis is the Void. We of the Dark Brotherhood serve the Night Mother, who is the bride of Sithis. The Night Mother rules her children with a terrible Black Hand. The Black Hand is the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood. It is made up of one Listener and Four Speakers. Four fingers and a thumb, if you will. As a member of the Dark Brotherhood, you must abide by the Five Tenets. They are the laws that guide and protect us."

"The Tenets, Speaker?" Swift-Knife questioned, lifting his head in curiosity. Lucien focused his eyes on him like a stern father giving a lecture, lifting his free hand with his index finger.

"The Five _Tenets are as follows: Tenet 1: Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. _

Tenet 2: _Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. _

Tenet 3: _Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. _

Tenet 4: _Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. _

Tenet 5: _Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis._"

Listening cautiously, Swift-Knife could hear the severity of the tenets and will remind himself to memorize them till they were as natural as his heartbeats. "I will follow Tenets, Speaker." He said. Lucien patted the Argonian's shoulder before vanished from sight like a phantom.

Keeping his bow for a moment before believing himself truly alone and stood. Looking in Rufio's dead eyes, Swift-Knife smiled. He have finally gained something he never had. _Family_.

No longer a slave. No longer a outcast. No longer alone.

He sensed a greater future for him and he will eviscerate anyone who dared to take that away from him.

Till the end of his life and beyond, he will serve Sithis and his Dark Brotherhood, to this he swears.


	5. Chapter 4

raveling through the forest and roads towards the east of the Imperial City...and closer to the mountains that border Morrowind. Swift-Knife knew the smell that the wind carried as he got closer to Cheydinhal. The smell of ash and Dumner magic under the layers of Cyrodillian smells, but he could smell it easily. He despised the smell and everything associated with it.

He dreaded going even near the mountains again, but his new family was there. If it means facing his fears to meet them, so be it. After two days of constant travel, Swift-Knife passed the Black Waterside stables at the break of night, and after some suspicious glares from the gate guards, entered the city.

In his throat, he chuckled some. He thanked Sithis that Imperials were arrogant fools...like the Dumner.

Remembering his benefactor's words, he followed the wall, ignoring any wondering eyes that passed him in the night, and finally found a old house, less lively than the others, by the church with a boarded door and windows. Approaching the door, he effortlessly tore off the old wood that blocked him, and opened it to meet a foul air that only smelled and tasted as age and decay.

Looking around, he found no one around and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Sniffing, Swift-Knife walked through the ancient house, it have been here a long time. Whatever was keeping even the city guard away must be powerful or its influence runs deep into the city royalty. Good, he was getting tired of being eyed by the guard anyway.

As he walked into the basement, a eerie scarlet light ebbed around a corner to a carved out cavern. With each pulse, a heartbeat was heard of Swift-Knife's ears. It called to him and he followed. Walking through, he noticed a old trail of blood and in moments he found it...

_The Black Door._

It was a large door, its stone-like surface depicted a frail woman craddling a child in one arm and a knife in the other as she looked about 4 more that seemed to beg or worship her, watching this dark action was a skull and its pale brow was a scarlet sun that shone its light upon the newcomer and the room around it, and in the center of this disk was a pale hand.

Reaching out, his claws barely took the surface when a outworldly voice queried, _"What is the color of night?" _

Rumbling in his throat, Swift-Knife pressed his hand on the door, feeling the dark throbbing through the dark. "Sanquine, my brother." He answered.

The door unlocked and pushed inward, _"Welcome home."_

Fresh air rushed in his nostrils with new smells. Walking cautiously, Swift-Knife felt, for the first time, secure yet wary. The walls were stone and well-preserved. Then he entered a grand hall, two rows of thick pillars keeping the Sanctuary up as old dark red banners flown to the brief air, and lanterns hanging on the walls to give the light to the large room.

There standing in the center of the room was a suit of black armor held up by a motionless skeleton with a rusting war axe in its bony fingers, and beside it was a fellow Argonian, one of the less bestial formed unlike Swift-Knife. A beautiful female with glossy green and almost pink scales that solemnly spoke of her age but a deceptive beauty, easily camouflaged in a forest or marsh like most Argonians, silk veils hung from her horn-crest elegantly. Dark leather armor fitted her lithe figure and each step she took towards him was graceful and silent with her tail waving behind her.

Looking into her red eyes, they were just as wisdom, compassion, and a certain darkness that only a killer would possess. With a Argonian's form of a smile with tiny needle teeth, she opened her arms to him as he approached. "Greetings, brother! Greetings!" She welcomed with a crock in her throat, common in Argonians, "I am Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary. Lucien has told me all about you. I welcome you to the Dark Brotherhood! You stand now in the Sanctuary. May it serve as your new home, a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises."

Swift-Knife removed his hood at last and bowed his head, "Thank you. It is honor." Noticing the broken language, Ocheeva placed a comforting hand on the larger Crocodilian's shoulder with searching eyes. Swift-Knife could feel her prodding in his very soul. He have been in prison and other places before for so long, he was deprived of the social gifts that other Argonians have now.

Born a slave of Morrowind...

The memory hurt him too. Moving his head, Swift-Knife said quietly, "Is...there anything I need...to do, mistress?" Saying the word again felt like hot coil rolling on his tongue. Ocheeva disregarded it, "Call me Ocheeva, brother." She said, "When you are ready for work, go and speak with Vicente Valtieri. He handles all assignments for new family members."

Nodding, Swift-Knife was about to step around her when her little hand grabbed at his massive arm, "But before you go, please accept this gift from your new family. A unique set of armor, lighter than normal leather and black as the Void."

As she said this, she waved her other hand toward a large box sitting on a nearby table. "Thank you...Ocheeva." The new assassin said with unmatched gratitude rumbling from his throat. Grabbing his gift, Swift-Knife listened to her final words at the moment, "I have kept you long enough. Vicente is waiting. You'll find him in his chambers. Go now, dear family member, and may the Night Mother wrap you in her cold, loving embrace."

Walking down the hall, he was nearly bumped into by a small female, but his massive size was unaffected as she staggered back. A little blonde female and from the smell, _Breton_. She wore the same uniform as Ocheeva. Groaning abit, she opened her eyes to look upon the beast before her.

Swift-Knife actually expected her to scream in terror but she simply smiled brightly with a slight blush to her rosy cheek, "So you are Swift-Knife, I have heard so much about you. Welcome to the family."

Tilting his head in great surprise at her friendly mood, Swift-Knife was astonished. This is the first soft-skin who have ever looked upon with such...affection.

"Welcome, brother." She stated again in nervous excitement, "So good to finally meet you. I am Antoinetta Marie, like you I am new here and loving every minute of it. I hope the same for you." Swift-Knife nodded and walked passed her to walk down the hall, there a large Orc in iron armor and uniformed Bosmer were in deep conversation infront of a large thick door, arguing about subtlety on their contracts and the values to them, but the Orc, as Swift-Knife could easily tell, isn't going to change his way of thinking.

And when the two realized they were being watched, they smiled at Swift-Knife, more so with the somewhat smaller Gorgon. Laughing heartily, the Orc pat on Knife's shoulder happily, "Welcome! Welcome to the family! I'd hug you, and you obviously look like you can handle it, but Ocheeva told me not." Giggling abit, the she-elf stepped on Swift-Knife' other side, "Indeed, warmest welcome to you. I am Talaendril. Wood elf and loyal daughter of Sithis. And you already know this big lug as Gorgon. I hope you find our Sanctuary to your liking." Gorgon nodded in agreement.

Still shocked and amazed by this foreign love, Swift-Knife nodded, "Thank you. Excuse me, must get to Vincente." The two let Swift-Knife go and when he was walking to the end of the hall, there stood a Khajiit against a corner, a leonine with a bandanna wrapped around his braided mane and his tall figure dressed in a green robe. With arms crossed and eyes closed, he didn't seem to notice the Argonian's approach until his nose sniffed.

Opening his golden eyes, the Khajiit showed a expression of obvious disdain at the sight of the large Crocodilian, showing his gleaming fangs. "If it isn't the newest member of the family. Let's get one thing straight, the Tenets prevent me from killing you. But I don't like you. I'll sell you equipment, but only because Ocheeva is making me. This family doesn't need any more..." The Khajiit said before eying something behind Swift-Knife for a split-second, "Outsiders."

Naturally, Swift-Knife would be tearing him apart, but he respected his bluntness and familiar demeanor. Unlike the others, he wasn't friendly or hospitable. Something about the Khajiit that Swift-Knife liked and he will let the insult go, but he will prove his power, meeting the Khajiit eye-to-eye, staring into each other's stony expression, "I don't fear you, Khajiit. I have killed things twice your size and from your smell, I enjoy the taste of Mages. If you do come to thought of attacking me, you better know that I have killed my share of magic-users from Morrowind."

This was his most complex sentence spoken in years and that alone surprised the former prisoner that he could still speak so well.

The two were silent and still like statues, they continued their battle through a voiceless stare-down, and finally the Khajiit snarled, "Very well, Outsider. You will live to know that you have survived a day with M'raaj-Dar." With that, he rounded Swift-Knife with his lengthy tail flicking in frustation, and walked off.

Watching the Khajiit, Swift-Knife smiled, and continued down some stairs to find another large door. Then, they opened before he touch it, and a tall being stood. While he had the appearance of a Breton with a well-groomed black ponytail and dressed in fine black clothes, but his face immediately spoke of a different nature.

When his red eyes fell on Swift-Knife, the man smiled with fangs sticking from the corners of his lips abit. "Warmest greetings to you. I trust you've already spoken with Ocheeva?" Which was answered with a nod, "I am Vincente Valtieri. I provide assignments for all new family members. Please don't let my appearance...unnerve you. The needs and Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire."

Swift-Knife was far from _unnerved_.

Swift-Knife bows his head, "You do not unnerve me, Vincente. I am but awed by your power and our family. Never have I been greeted with such kindness and will do anything to keep it safe from others." Vincente chuckled kindly, "Quite a humble beast aren't you. You will be make it far here, my brother. I know you have traveled far and wide to get here. Rest and enjoy the Sanctuary. I will summon you when a contract is ready for you."

"Thank you." Swift-Knife said with a deep bow and started to walk off back to the grand hall. Then the sound of pages turning caught his attention, turning his head, he saw a uniformed figure sitting in a chair. The tail obviously belonging to a fellow Argonian. Sensing the presence, the Argonian turned his hooded head and gave a toothy smile. _Was he always in that corner?_

Swift-Knife almost thought it was Ocheeva, but the body and more scarlet scales proved otherwise. Closing his book with a mark to keep track of his place, the Argonian put it down and got up from his seat. "I welcome you to our family, and this Sanctuary. May you always find yourself at home here, in the loving embrace of our Lady, the _Night Mother._" He greeted.

Blinking, Swift-Knife questioned, "I am Swift-Knife, and you..._brother?_" "Teinaava." The Argonian answered with a proud smile, "Egg-brother of Ocheeva and proud Shadowscale."

Surprised, Swift-Knife blinked, it is rare to find egg-siblings, or in Soft-skin terms, _Twins_. And to hear the term _Shadowscale_, Knife's scales shivered as he could barely recollect that word before and queried on the term, which Teinaava answered happily,

"In the Argonian home of Black Marsh, those born under the sign of the Shadow are taken at birth and presented to the Dark Brotherhood. A Shadowscale hatchling is trained in the arts of stealth and assassination, and lives a life in service to the mighty kingdom of Argonia. Any Shadowscale who lives to come of age is accepted into the Dark Brotherhood as a full member of the family. So it was with me and Ocheeva."

Nodding as he absorbed the information, Swift-Knife thanked his new brother for the knowledge and walked off to the living quarters. Pushing the heavy door, he began his new life to the Dark Brotherhood.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter V: The Contract**

* * *

Walking by the stairs, Swift-Knife looked around in the somewhat empty downstairs after killing the fireplace, and took a careful seat in a thick swooping chair that fit perfectly with his tail and bulk. Opening a black leather-clad journal sitting on his desk, he looked at the several pages written, and found a empty page.

In his little study corner, there was his large wooden desk and chair, holding his dictionary, ink bottle, and the fractured skull holding up a thick burning candle, a bookshelf behind him assorted with a slowly growing collection of books.

The candle light burned bright and gleamed off his muscular torso, his scales more healthy to a dark bronze color with a patch of black on his back with his legs clad in nice black heavy-lidded eyes looked thoughtfully before dipping his index talon into a large cup of ink and start to write with small and somewhat simple format;

_First Seed 8, 3E 433_

_A month have passed since becoming a member of the Dark Brother and my life is beyond a dream. I am truly blessed by the Dread Father to have be given a chance of life after surviving the ruthless bondage of Dunmer mages and the cruel imprisonment of Imperial scum since hatching. _

_My Family is the greatest gift that have been bestowed to this forsaken that I have earned through righteous blood. I still keep Rufio's skull as a glorious trophy in remembrance of my first kill for the Void. More will come to join it. _

_I have learned much in the weeks with the and Ocheeva have taught me how to read and write. Due to my time as a'_

Swift-Knife paused and swallowed at the very thought of the word that he despised most.

"_Slave...I have been forced to learn quick and adapt and I use my ill-earned talents to my new life. It was quick to learn the texts that the Sanctuary provided, from the Five Tenets to the eight volumes of the Wolf Queen. While a quill would seem more efficient, I enjoy the use of my claw more. _

_My decade of imprisonment had weakened me, but I was still powerful and quick for my size. It amazed most of the Sanctuary and with the help of the others' training regiment, I have grown more adapt to my life as well as healthy. _

_While I love and enjoy my time with all of the family, I enjoy a small word jousting or magic training from M'raaj-Dar. The Khajiit still has a spiteful attitude but I can tell he enjoy the fact that I can take his insults. There are moments of civility between us, but very subtle. _

_Gorgon and myself work as sparring partners, since we are the only ones to be able to survive the others' brutish strength, which no doubt bring the Orc much joy. _

_I worked with his obvious love, Talaendril, for a week. Despite my deep distaste of elves, I enjoy her company. She is patient and wise, like the archer that she is. She taught me how to use a bow, the task was long and difficult due to my...body structure, but it happened. She helped me craft a fine bow made from strong wood exported from Valenwood and string made of silk. I worked for days to hit the targets in the training room in the center. We tried different exercises, I succeed in most but I wasn't nearly as good as I am with a sword or my beloved Blade of Woe._

_The Blade of Woe..._

He was about to continue his thoughts when something caught his , he caught the smell of magic and fine-smells of cinder, mint, and death. Smirking, he rolled out of his chair as a flash of ice struck the wall beside him, where his head was, and the novice bounced back to his feet to see the barely-visible figure throw another veil of ice at him from up the stairs.

Throwing his hand out, the ice was caught by magically winds and pulled into his palm, converting into his own pool of magical energies, but some of the magic effects still struck him, making his blood run cold and body stiff abit. Chuckling in his throat, Knife smirked at his attacker, which was responded with a very quick spat, and another bolt of whirling ice stuck his chest before he could blink.

Maneuvering himself to the front room, the attacker vaulted the steps and into the room, throwing another bolt while he was recovering from his stiffness.

Thrown back, Swift-Knife shivered from the attack as the ice stiffen his body even more. Acting quick, he pounced forward.

The invisible attacker tried to cast another spell but Swift-Knife was already tackling into it and slammed the body into the wall. Chuckling again, the Argonian looked delighted to have caught the invader, "You almost got me down that time, _brother_.Your spells are growing more bold each time."

"Whoever said I've haven't?" A familiar accented voice retorted as a smirking M'raaj-Dar materialized, the Argonian's large arm over his collar-bone, seemingly defenseless. Looking down, Swift-knife saw the dark mage's clawed paw hovering over Swift-Knife's side with it glowing with more icy magic.

Laughing dryly, Swift-Knife remarked, "As a assassin, you must always seem be ready with the death blow. You never disappoint, but you really should be more careful with your scent, Cat."

Grimacing, M'raaj spat back, "Yet you remain as reckless as Gorgon, Leather Boots."

Smirking, Swift-Knife pulled away from M'raaj, "Now what brings you here to my humble home, brother. Certainly not to try to teach me another ambush lesson."

Dusting his jaded robes, M'raaj off-handly answered like the grump that he is, "It seems Vicente have finally thought of you to be worthy of a real contract, swamp breath. Yet, of all of the family, he chose me to send you the message. Sometimes I think the old vampire is starting to lose his mind."

Wide-eyed, Swift-Knife swallowed, "_F-finally?_"Flickering his ears in frustration, M'raaj snarled, "Did you hear me correctly or have you been swimming in the swamp again?"

Grunting at the insult, Swift-Knife spat back, "It is hard to hear you over your hairball sometimes, you know that, brother." Flattening his ears, the mage scolded, "Get going before my magic runs wild in your cozy little home of yours."

Laughing, Swift-Knife grabbed his new gray cloak, and after fixing the room abit, he started to make his way out of the house that he was so generously given from the city's Dunmer count, who is apparently from one of the _Great_ Houses of Morrowind, the one that helped free the Argonians and Khajiit from servitude. So he had Swift-Knife's diminutive respect and is amongst the less likely of the Dumner to be murdered by him.

Looking up, he saw M'raaj-Dar looking down at him with crossed arms and narrowed eyes, "See you in the Sanctuary, brother."

The Khajiit rolled his eyes and turned away. Concentrating, he made himself invisible to the naked eye, using a weak illusion spell to keep himself unseen in by the patrols, before walking outside.

It was midnight by now, so there would be few guards right now. Rushing through the city with incredible speed, he found the abandoned house, and slipped into the Sanctuary. He couldn't wait to gain the key to the well for a more quick get in.

Entering, he was greeted by the Dark Guardian as usual, who continued its eternal duty as protector of the Sanctuary. In the hall, Gorgon and Teinaava was having a conversation by the bookshelves. "Good evening, brothers." Swift-Knife greeted. The two quickly stopped their talk to greet their new sibling warmingly, "Ah, Swift-Knife, what brings you here in this late hour?" Gorgon asked.

"Vicente has summoned me." Swift-Knife answered laughed with a booming voice as he patted his sparring partner on the shoulders, "Excellent. Finally, you can use your skills to good use."

Nodding, the hooded Teinaava smiled, "Yes. You trained hard for this day and I am confident you will succeed. If you need any advice, just come to us. We will help how ever we can." Gorgon nods with a fanged smile, "Yes, do come back as soon as you are done talking with ol' Vicente. We'll get you started."

Nodding, Swift-Knife rushed to Vicente's room, and breathed carefully before knocking. There was a moment of silence before the doors opened. Vicente stood with a smile, "Good hour, my young brother. I have collected a suitable contract for you."

"I am ready to pay my respects to our unholy father, at last, Vicente." Swift-Knife old vampire laughed gleefully, "Your determination is always a fine shadow in this light, my brother." Vicente said before gesturing Knife inside before shutting the door.

Taking a seat at his table, Swift-Knife was glad to know the chair was able to hold his weight. Taking the other chair, Vicente began, "As you already know from your brother, M'raaj-dar, you are going to undertake your very first is the pact one enters into with the Dark provide us with the gold, and we remove someone from existence. It is fulfilled by a skilled assassin, such as yourself, who keeps the Dark Brotherhood's end of the bargain. So it have always carrying out a contract, you may have the opportunity to earn a bonus if certain parameters are met. Understand?"

Swift-Knife purred and nodded.

"Excellent, here is what you must to the Waterfront district of the Imperial you will find a ship named the _Marie Elena._ Board the ship and find its captain, Gaston 'll be in his Tussaud in any matter you see pirates have been moving a lot of cargo onboard lately. You may be able to smuggle yourself on board in one of the packing crates." Vicente seemed to be done, when a idea quickly formed up, "Oh, and one more thing, get into the habit of asking your family members about your current insight may prove invaluable."

Taking the advice to heart, Swift-Knife got up, "Thank you, Vicente. I will make the Dark Brotherhood proud."

Smiling gently, the Breton Vampire nodded, "I know you will. Spill some blood for me, dear brother."

"I will." Swift-Knife said before leaving out of the room.

Walking back to the others, he found M'raaj-dar talking with Teinaava and Gorgon. "Brothers." He greeted and the small group nodded.

After explaining his contract to them, Gorgon leaned on Swift-Knife with a thoughtful sigh, "Your first contract. No chance of a bonus, eh? That's all right, you're better off! Who needs magic items when you've got raw skill? And what the great part about killing a target up close and personal is you can talk to 'em before you do it!" Then the happy orc ranted on with a contract he performed a Nordic girl on her birthday.

Chuckling at Gorgon, Swift-Knife looked to his Argonian brother, who politely waited for Gorgon to finish before giving actual advice,

"The _Marie Elena, _you say?" Teinaava asked as he rubbed his chin, having forgotten the name due to Gorgon's ranting, "I've seen that ship. There's a unique balcony at the stern. My guess is it leads to the captain's be useful."

Nodding to this, Swift-Knife was already forming a plan from the information given to him. "Do you know about the pirates themselves?" "They are a paranoid and dangerous bunch, especially their Dunmer first mate...what's her name...Malvulisss." He hissed in remembrance.

Just knowing she is Dunmer made his spines straighten up, but she isn't the target. The Captain is. Looking to M'raaj-dar, he wondered if the Khajiit knew anything, but disregarded the thought. He wouldn't give any information, especially for a _useless novice on his first contract._

"Thank you brothers for your help. I will return soon, maybe with some new items to decorate the halls." He said and the three nodded. "Bring back a nice head, dear brother." Gorgon laughed and Swift-Knife left out through the door.

M'raaj-dar watched till the Black Door shut completely. Scolding to himself, the Khajiit walked to practice his magic more, _he'll freeze that lizard next time._


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI: Snake in a Crate**

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Sitting in a abandoned shack built in the poor water districts of the Imperial City, Swift-Knife sat quietly, his cloak over his head as he dipped his claw into the mutilated body of a Dunmer who use to work in the Imperial Trading Company, making it nice and damp before continuing his writing.

_First Seed 9, 3E 433_

_I have been carefully watching the Marie Elena since my arrival. A moderately-sized crew, the First Mate disciplines them severely. Nothing new with the heartless Dunmeri, but noticeable the Captain keeps himself in his cabin. He must smell death through the thicket of his crew's stench. Good, soon the cold hand of Sithis is soon to fall upon him. _

_I have found a suitable crate to steal into. Large and thick enough for me to hide and I can use some Alteration to make myself light enough to be believable cargo._

_I am still debating between killing just Captain or his whole crew. It has been too long since I had a chance to kill a large number of people. I hope some of the crew is in the lower deck, but I will savor the Captain's blood with the Blade of Woe, it deserves only the finest of my prey._

As he finished the last word, the door unbolted and opened quickly before closing. "Any important news?" He asked with a savage hiss, moving his head only slightly to look at a terrified Redguard. The somewhat tall man rubbed his hands nervously as he occasionally looked at his former comrade's corpse by the Argonian's feet, "T-They...seem to be ready to sail out by t-tomorrow."

Blowing the wet blood till it was dry enough for him to close his journal, Swift-Knife envisioned his plan once more behind his eyelids before opening them again, "Excellent."

"You served me well, Hillod. I will allow you to live if you continue to keep your mouth shut and provide information for me." He said, standing up from the little wooden seat, its legs splayed out abit from his weight.

Turning around to face the nodding Redguard, he could taste the complete fear from him, and basked in it.

"Good, I would hate to spill unnecessary blood." Swift-Knife threatened as he licked the blood from his claw, loving the taste of Dunmer blood. "U-Understood, sir." Hillod answered at last, he have heard stories of the Crocodile under the Imperial City but didn't think it was real, but it was standing right infront of him.

Standing bigger than anyone he have seen, it is hard to tell if the Argonian was a Werecrocodile or he was just like that, and his very presence made Hillod want to swim all the way to whatever continent was beyond Tamriel. Now he is forced to serve the beast or die, and he certainly didn't want the latter.

Waving a webbed hand, the Crocodile spoke, "Now begone, keep a lookout for any Imperial interference. I want absolutely none and if I do, I will have you join your friend here into the Void."

Nodding quickly, Hillod left out of the shack, and took a few relaxing breathes before walking out in the city's night, doing as he is told.

Once his new agent was gone, Swift-Knife began to pull his cloak away to reveal his shrouded armor, it was tailored perfectly for his body, and just being in it was like being in second skin. Putting the cloak over his satchel holding his journal and public clothes, he carefully folded it and hid it behind the shelf, but not before putting a magic spell over it in case the fool manage to find it and try to touch it.

The straps and buckles crisscrossed his waist and torso over the pitch-black leather, one of these straps holding a steel pauldron over his right shoulder with a black handprint pressed into it. Giving a deep purr, he pulled his hood over his head, and patted the Blade of Woe on the right side of his hip.

"May the Shadow of Sithis blanket me in my contract to serve him." Swift-Knife prayed to the Dread Father quietly before he immaterialized and sneaked to the ship.

Moving through the little district quietly, he saw the crew was starting to store up the crate. Creeping over like a snake, he crawled into the overturned crate, and closed the lid quickly before anyone noticed.

He had to wait a couple minutes before someone started to pick him, and thankfully the spell worked was curled up, most uncomfortably but luckily the trip was short and when his crate was dropped.

He silently waited for a good ten minutes before carefully crawling himself in the cargo hold, Swift-Knife was alone but voices could be heard a little forward, he found himself in the lower deck of the ship, its inventory piled high and organized.

Shame all of it will be for nothing. Climbing up a ladder to the mid-deck, Swift-Knife heard the voices more louder now.

Creeping to a corner with his back to the wall as best as he could, Swift-Knife listened, two of the pirates arguing about the bad luck of a female onboard the ship and her capabilities as a sailor...the Firstmate no doubt.

He chuckled very lightly to himself, the fool didn't know how right he was. Waiting until they were done, Swift-knife listened carefully, they were separating, with one walking towards him.

Readying his claws, Swift-knife waited the last second that the Redguard pirate stepped pass the door. Stabbing his right claws into the man's side, the claws raking against his spine, but before the man could scream, the Argonian covered his mouth and snapped his neck.

Laying the man on a crate, Swift-knife licked his claws as he walked down the hall, his eyes searching for the other 'old' pirate. At the end of the hall, he found the old Nord sleeping on a dirty bed between two large piles of crates.

Stepping toward the sleeping pirate, the Crocodile's tail flexed and moved forward, its spiked tail gleaming in the lantern light, and thrusted forward, stabbing into the man's skull without much issue. The body spasmed and jerked as blood flowed out of the puncture wounds freely.

With a rumbling purr, Swift-knife tried to pull his tail out of the Nord, but the body followed it. Lifting the body towards him, he pulled the corpse off, and whipped the blood to the two quick kills, the assassin climbed up short ladder, into what he recalled as the captain's cabin.

Looking from the hatch, he saw a short corridor between two doors, one closed door leading outside and one open to his prey. Walking to the open, he found his prey walking towards his table in a drunken state.

"Guston Tussaud." Swift-Knife hissed. The Breton turned with some misstep, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the assassin, too drunk to tell except for it to be a giant shadow. "What in blazes!" He asked with a slur, "You ain't one of me crew! Ye best start explaining yerself, mate, if you want to get off this ship alive."

"The Dread Father summons you." Swift-Knife answered, and the pirate start to rant about the Argonian being apart of the church, he smoothly pulled the Blade of Woe from its sheath, and thrown it's black blade into the captain's leg.

As the man fell forward in the midst of drawing his blade, cursing to himself, Swift-Knife sped across the room to the recovering captain, and backhanded Guston hard enough to send himself flying onto his table.

Chuckling darkly, he pulled his blade out of the pirate's leg, and stabbed into his chest. Groaning, Guston tried to pull Swift-Knife's arm away but the drunk was absolutely no match for his bestial strength as he simply swung his blade about helplessly to the murderer's ritualistic mutilation dedicated to his first contract, involving much techniques that could make a Orc cry.

After several minutes of messy work and barely holding the pirate from screaming, Swift-Knife collected Guston's cutlass as a trophy and grabbed a chest full of treasure before concerned knocking started to pound on the door.

His crew, they obviously heard the screams. Acting fast, he unlocked the back door leading to the balcony a split-second before the door opened and escaped. Swimming a good distance away with his loot, Swift-Knife could hear the screaming of anger and horror as they find the horrid mess that was once their captain as his bloody skeleton lay on the table with his flesh splayed to show his insides and the skull printed with a handprint over it.

_Captain Guston Tussand of the Marie Elena is dead, his soul sent to the Void. Time to deliver the message to the others..._


End file.
